


Sweet Solace

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [125]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, M/M, POV Loki (Marvel), Reader-Insert, Stress Relief, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25582708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: You put on a good front for the world, but Loki can tell when you need to fall apart. And he’s always right there to hold you together.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [125]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 13
Kudos: 156





	Sweet Solace

You were a force to be reckoned with. Absolutely ferocious in the field, and willing to do what needed to be done with very little hemming or hawing. In the Tower, you were competent and skilled in anything you put your mind to, and you could often be found puttering around in Tony’s lab or even outright helping him think through his newest idea. Intelligence shone brightly from behind your eyes, even when you were merely sitting around with other members of the team, sipping a drink and chatting about nothing. You spoke with the air of someone who knew what they were talking about, but you never once slipped into the realm of a know-it-all. And Loki knew plenty about that.

Your abilities, that blinding competence was a big reason he loved it so much when you melted against him.

He’d come to recognize a certain kind of need in the rigidity of your shoulders. Near the end of the day, especially after a long string of days full of hard work, he could see the way your body language shifted. You became a little extra sharp-edged, like you were redoubling your efforts to look calm and capable even though something inside you was beginning to wobble. When he saw that stance of yours, he knew you’d let him lead you away. You always put up a protest, but even that seemed to be in name only. You knew what he could offer you, and you knew that you needed it. 

So he’d lead you away, typically to your suite of rooms, and he’d sit you gently on your sofa. You let him. Sometimes he’d duck out again, and steal down to the kitchen to gather some snacks for the two of you, and sometimes he stayed right there. Either way, he would sit down beside you and tug you gently into his lap, and you would form your body against his with a sigh of relief.

Often, you would straddle him. He liked that. He liked being able to look into your eyes and touch you and kiss you. He loved the way your thighs felt against him, and he especially loved how much more vulnerable it made that softest part of you. When you spread your legs like that to settle into his lap, you had to trust him not to take advantage of you in this state of yours, and it was a heady feeling.

He would reach up to cup your face in his palms, and, every time he did, your eyes would flutter closed even as you gave a deep sigh of relief. That always made something stir in him. He liked to brush his thumbs along your cheekbones. Your skin was beautiful beneath his, and the contrast would often entrance him. Your lashes were long and dark, and every once in a while, he would not be able to resist touching them with his fingertips even though it always made you pull away a little. You trusted him with everything, but you were ticklish. It made him smile. He would scatter kisses along your face: your eyelids, your cheekbones, the tip of your nose, your lips. It was like he could document every last inch of your face in his mind using nothing more than his lips.

When he kissed you, he could feel the way you began to let yourself go. He could feel how your back started to curve forwards, instead of being locked into that straight-up-and-down posture that you held in public. You would let your head rest in his hands, and when you closed your eyes, it was a wordless assurance that you trusted him to look after you. _Him_. 

As things progressed, you always wound up leaning into him, and hiding your face against the place where his neck met his shoulder. You would kiss him there, and the feeling of your sweet lips against him made him want to shiver. Instead, he’d slide his hands along your back. He drew patterns against you: silly little pictures, sometimes, or runic inscriptions, or just swirling curves. You liked it when he touched you like that. He could feel the way goosebumps would erupt along your arms and the way you couldn’t fight the shivers that wracked through you. On a particularly stressful day, sometimes you would moan or whimper into his neck, and then it was his turn to shiver.

Neither of you said much during these rituals. There wasn’t much to say. You trusted him. That much was obvious. You trusted him to hold you and touch you and help you relax. You knew that you didn’t have to maintain that image of fearsome competence when you were alone with him. You could be something so much more physical and sensual, and you trusted him to drop you into a state where all you had to do was enjoy the way he touched you. And your trust was the most delicious novelty to him. Never in his life had anyone had the courage, the faith, to let themselves be so vulnerable around him. Granted, he knew that he’d had a lot to do with that: he’d spent so many of his younger years thoroughly punishing anyone who had the misfortune to trust him. But he was wiser now, and it was so much easier to appreciate the way it felt to be trusted. 

On the worst days, when you hid your face, it didn’t take long at all before he felt hot tears against his skin. You cried silently in his arms, never breathing a word about what was haunting you, and it made something in his chest twist until it threatened to choke him. But he held you. He rubbed your back and murmured your name and promised to keep looking after you. “I’ve got you,” he would say, putting as much heat into the words as he could, and he’d slip his hand beneath your shirt to touch your skin. “I’m here, love. Let it out.” It was a mantra. He repeated those phrases often, willing them into your heart, your mind. He needed you to know that this was okay. That he’d always keep you safe here.

He hated the feeling of your tears on his shoulder, but he treasured it dearly all the same. It meant that you could allow him to hold you upright even as you let yourself fall apart. That was absolutely unfathomable to him. You would cling to him and accept the words he said to you and _believe_ them. You would let him hold you until you’d gotten it all out. Then, in a voice that trembled, you would say his name. You would thank him. The first time it happened, you’d apologized, but he’d set you straight right away. There was no need to seek forgiveness for this. If anything, he should be _thanking_ you for it, for allowing him to shore you up when you were feeling so vulnerable.

Whether or not you cried, you always eventually sat up. You didn’t pull away entirely, and you didn’t straighten your shoulders past the point of comfort: only enough for the both of you to know you were feeling more like yourself again. You always gazed at him with the softest look in your eyes. It was hard to feel like he could accept it, but you did not waver. You would reach up to run your fingers through his hair as though you thought it was your turn to comfort him. Like you didn’t know that your mere presence was a source of comfort. He would let his eyes slip closed when you touched him, because he was not one to deny himself such pleasure, but his hands never stopped moving on your back. 

The two of you would spend long hours like that: taking comfort in one another and offering the same. He never quite found the words to tell you how dear those nights were to him, but he did his best to make you feel it in his touch. And, when you looked at him, he thought he could see understanding in your eyes.


End file.
